By Mike Peake

'​Well that seemed a very long winter didn’t it? However, we are BACK! It was time to meet up with good friends and great cars again and our group of intrepid enthusiast was heading for the Inn on the Wye which was to be our base camp for our weekend’s exploration of the Forest of Dean.
 
Let’s back up a bit though and start on Thursday 24th February. I’d originally booked this day off work as I’d promised Mrs FB a trip to the Caravan and Motorhome show at the NEC. This trip had to be abandoned though as a new acquisition was heading my way and delivery was due on the Thursday. Mrs FB hid her disappointment almost as well as my bruises were hidden. I’m saving that tale for another blog though.
 
All this meant that I had time to fettle Poppy and get her ready for our trip. This mainly consisted of changing the brake light switch mounted above the brake pedal. A simple easy fix I thought, but no. The old broken one came off easily enough and then it was just a matter of pushing the new one through the hole in the bracket, making sure the flat edges lined up and then fitting the washer and tightening up the nut on the other side of the bracket fixing the switch into place. See? Easy! I spent HOURS, and I mean HOURS fiddling with it. I was quite nervous about cross threading the nut and destroying the plastic thread on the switch and therefore could not get the nut lined up correctly. 4 hours of fiddling, false starts, dropped washers, nuts and switches later, including a call to my local garage to see if they could fit it in (they couldn’t), I was no closer to success and getting quite frustrated. So I stopped for lunch and a think. The break also coincided with a sudden snow shower. It would appear that our resident Rain Man Gar Cole was releasing the usual tour weather gods early.
 
In the end, I undid the pedal linkage to the master cylinder which meant that the pedal travelled further and gave me more room behind the bracket. It worked! 10 minutes after finishing lunch, the switch was successfully in place and I had working brake lights again. I even remembered to reassemble the linkage BEFORE I had any embarrassing or expensive moments.
 
The rest of the fettling involved nothing more than checking fluid levels and tyre pressures. It being a “not camping” weekend meant that all I had to do now was pack my overnight bag for 2 nights and I would be ready to leave straight after work on Friday. Mrs FB had said that she wasn’t coming as it was “far too 'Winter' for mucking about in a convertible car with no heater.”

​As I came out of my home office spot on knocking off time on Friday, ready to head off down the green lanes, Mrs FB announced a change of plan. She’d looked at the weather forecast and decided that it wasn’t that much “winter” after all and that she was coming with me.
 
I was so pleased to hear this and didn’t mind in the slightest the wait while every hat, coat, jumper, blanket and hot water bottle in the house, as well as outfits for if it’s cold and for if it’s not and more for if it rains, was loaded into Poppy, filling the boot, back seat and floor well to the brim.
 
Eventually though, with Mrs FB sat in the passenger seat, buried under further coats, blankets and hot water bottles, we headed for the hotel a mere one and a half hour’s drive away. Positively local to us for one of our tours.
 
After checking into our luxurious “not camping” abode we all gathered in the restaurant where the serious business of the tour could begin. By that I mean drinking, eating, drinking, laughing, drinking and shenanigans.

​All this singing had a strange effect on Nick Arthur. You could see the feeling come up over him like a tidal wave until he could resist no more and in a surprisingly strong clear voice, broke into a song of his own. To say we were all surprised is an understatement. Though none as surprised as Nick I dare say. We were so surprised that it took us a few seconds to tune into the lyrics of his chosen ditty, but when we did, our surprise changed to shock! You see Nick had chosen to sing a traditional English folk song rarely  heard outside of a rugby club on a Saturday evening and had something to do with candles and wicks and stuff. I didn’t understand it myself but others seemed to find it uproariously funny. I have the whole thing on video, but as it seems to break every group rule I don’t think I can share it here. However, I will happily share it with anyone on the payment of £10 to my PayPal account. Unless that is, Nick wants to come to his own arrangement with me? That nice brown XJ Jaguar for instance?
 
Sensibly and soberly, of course, we all retired to our beds early to be refreshed and ready for the tour in the morning.
 
Strangely, Saturday dawned as one of those bright, sunny but cold winter days with no sign at all of the apocalyptic weather that normally accompanies our tours. A clear sign that Rain Man Gar was off his game. So, before we set off, let me introduce you to the gang and their cars.

The 1st leg of the tour took us to the town of Monmouth via some charming green lanes. I’ve driven through Monmouth on the A40 many a time but have never stopped there until now but it really is a lovely little town. I was particularly interested in the medieval bridge across the wye. It is the last surviving fortified bridge in the country.

​It was built in 1270 in order to defend the town against the marauding and savage Welsh tribesmen who liked nothing more than popping over the River Wye and raiding for a few head of English cattle. I was all for climbing the tower immediately to see if I could shoot a few Welshmen of my own but Gar was having none of it and bodily blocked the only entrance to the upper floors of the tower.

​As disappointed as I was, I could understand Gar’s actions as he was the only one there with known Welsh ancestry. I’m not sure that his actions were entirely necessary though, as that door doesn’t look like it was built with Fatblokes in mind.
 
I was quite excited about the next legs of the tour as they would be taking in a couple of old ruins.

​No! Not Windy and Bernard! I’ve no idea how that photo got in here. The ruins we were going to see were Raglan Castle and Tintern Abbey.
 
The 1st leg to Monmouth had gone extremely well with no one getting separated or lost on the way. I knew it couldn’t last and it didn’t. Having left the Monmouth car park with kind motorists giving way so as not to separate the convoy, the convoy separated like a starburst in a myriad of different directions as soon as we hit the 1st major junction with each breakaway convoy getting smaller at each subsequent junction until there was just Poppy and Lincoln’s Royal Ranger Rover left.

​We finally made it to Raglan Castle only to find it devoid of any other classic car enthusiasts. Had we taken so long that they had been and gone without us? No. They wouldn’t do that would they? It turned out that the Royal cross country route was a rather effective short cut and we were actually the 1st to arrive. After a short wait the main convoy of classics, having continued on the road we lost confidence in, turned up.

​Chats were had, photos were taken, Raglan Castle was oohed and aahed at and Mrs FB got cold so we all headed for the Wild Hare at Tintern to fill up with food and warmth and to meet up with the remaining stragglers who had elected to skip the castle and go straight to the pub.
 
Hunger pangs sated, and bodies defrosted, it was time to leave the pub. The plan was to walk down to the Abbey for a look around but it was cold and we could see it from the car park. So, having seen the Abbey we headed off for the final stop of the tour.

​The Perrygrove steam forest railway. Who doesn’t love a steam engine? The train set we were going to play with was a rather fine narrow gauge one and I have to say, I now want a bigger back garden so I can have a train set just like it.
 
The convoy managed to hold together and we arrived at the railway only to be told we’d missed the last run. Well I’m not ashamed to say that my bottom lip was trembling with disappointment at this announcement and I wasn’t the only one. I think the ticket office girl noticed this, and not wanting to see 15 grown men cry, she went off the see if the driver would do one more run just for us. On the news that he would, 15 grown men suddenly turned into 15 excited little boys as we rushed for the platform gripping our tickets.

As soon as the train was in, I made a beeline for the best seat on the train, right next to the engine so I could be up close to all the noises smells and sights of a working steam engine. We settled in and got comfy only to watch the engine uncouple and head for the other end of the train. I might have sulked a bit, but only until we got to the halfway point of the ride when the engine came back to our end and I was able to fully enjoy the ride back to the station.

That wasn’t the end of the experience though. The owners allowed us all back to the engine shed to see their other engines and watch as the put the last one to bed for the night..

​That just left an enjoyable drive back to the hotel for another night of frivolity and laughter before a hearty breakfast and morning departure back to my new acquisition that I had been so rudely torn away from mere hours after her arrival. No. you’ll have to await my next blog for those details. Oh go on then. Here’s a clue.

​What a fantastic start to the 2022 season with the usual massive thanks to Gar Cole for organising yet another great weekend and thanks to everyone else there for making it so much fun. My face has only just stopped hurting from all the laughter.
 
See you at the NEC for the restoration show. Gar has got a fantastic stand planned. Our best yet so don’t miss it. As a member of this group you get discounted tickets and free cake too.

By Mike Peake

Hello Chaps. Well it’s been 2 long years since there was any big indoor classic car shows and I don’t know about you but I’ve really missed them. So, imagine our excitement when we heard that this one was definitely happening and that we had a stand!
 
My excitement was tempered somewhat when our beloved Fat Controller of events Gar Cole - who organises this so well - suddenly announced that he was swanning off on his oft-postponed cruise and would be leaving the stand in my bumbling incompetent hands! I know! Selfish or what? The pressure was further increased when Gar handed me a GoPro and told me to film everything.
 
Don’t get me wrong, the prodigious amount of behind the scenes paperwork and organising was still handled by Skipper Paul Sweeney and Gar, but the stand would be mine. So, no pressure then.
 
After hyperventilating into a paper bag for 3 days and counting to a billion to calm myself, I started thinking about the type of stand I wanted and the team to help me out. I decided I wanted to show what a diverse group of people and cars our group represents and a group of stalwart, hardworking and reliable chaps that I could rely on to do all the hard physical labour so I wouldn’t have to. Of course, they would all have to be very shiny too as this is the shiny show after all. (The cars, not the chaps.)
 
With the cars chosen and team selected, all I had to do now was wait for the show dates to arrive and worry about everything that could possibly go wrong as well as the very long list of rules that we had to obey whilst in the halls and which Anthony kept reminding us of. Anthony was very useful in other ways too. He came up with and organised the professional-looking information stands displayed next to each car and modified them so they could be secured under the car wheel and wouldn’t be knocked over by the clumsy public and damage the cars.

​He also came up with the excellent idea of fixing different plaques from our tours to the cars to show that we are an active group and that the cars are actually driven regularly and not pampered show queens. Thanks for this Anthony.
 
Set-up day arrived and we’d all agreed to meet in a local Toby Carvery for a full slap-up breakfast. We were all surprised to see that breakfast included Yorkshire puddings. Tosh just had a cold croissant though, because that’s now his favourite.

​ All replete and satisfied, entrance forms distributed and help provided to luddites on getting the Covid passports, we set off for the halls in a convoy of 5 classic cars (Anthony was displaying 2 cars on different stands) and me in my modern chock full of stand paraphernalia. 

​Once we’d successfully negotiated the queues, bureaucrats and jobsworths we arrived at our stand, which looked HUGE when empty. Even more so when we unrolled our embarrassingly small new stand carpet! (I think we need another 3 of these rolls Gar!) Anyway, I unloaded the rest of the stand equipment, told the chaps where and how I wanted the cars positioned and left them to it while I dashed off to remove my car from the hall and avoid the huge fine that would be imposed if I overstayed.
 
When I came back, lo and behold, it was all done and done exactly as I’d asked. It was the easiest set up I think we’ve ever done. I only had this photo taken in order to make Gar feel better. The stand didn’t look so big anymore either. The carpet still looked embarrassingly small though , but at least provided a border between the public walkway and our stand. Well some of our stand anyway. (Did I mention we need 3 more rolls Gar?)

​We were all done by 1.30pm so were able to go home or to our hotel for granddad naps and telly watching.
 
So let me introduce the team:

• Anthony Osborne displaying his 1938 Austin New Ascot Light 12/4 and Pat Osborne who spent her time dashing between our stand and the Metro stand where they were also showing Anthony’s Rover 100.
• Lincoln Hunt with his 1973 Range Rover.
• Gus and Tosh Brooks showing Alison Brooks' 1956 Austin A35 2 door saloon.
• Nick Arthur with his 1963 Ford Consul Capri GT.
• Finally, Phil Allin who wasn’t showing anything and had just turned up for the cake but was a huge help manning the stand for the 3 show days as were the rest of the team.

 
Normally, I would show a photo of each team member stood next to their car but I was so overwhelmed with the responsibility of being the team leader and focused on getting good footage on the bloody GoPro that I kept forgetting to take the stills I needed on my phone. So sorry, but we only got this photo of Phil Allin taken by Lincoln and this photo of Tosh Brooks.

​So now let me introduce the cars. Actually, Anthony did such a good Job on the “blurb” he wrote for the display stands, that I’ll let him introduce the cars.

Thanks again Anthony.
 
Friday was going smoothly, a steady stream of visitors to the stand were chatted to and fed cake when all of a sudden I get a phone call from His Highness and Senior Mugwump in the classic world, Lord John Simpson of Practical Classic towers.

​It appeared that Lord John had been shortlisted for an award in the Classic and Sports Car magazine Club Awards. However, Lord John being a busy and important chap was unable to make the dinner but needed someone there to represent him and asked me if I knew anyone of good character that would fit the bill.

​Well for the life of us, we couldn’t think of anyone so he told me that I’d have to do and I was to take three other chaps along to keep me in order. Well the only other chaps I knew that were staying nearby were Phil Allin and the Brooks brothers. I know! What could possibly go wrong?

​So the four of  were enrolled as honorary members of the Boston Classic Car Club, which involved some rather strange ceremonial antics because - well they’re from Boston - and we were dispatched, rather reluctantly by all parties, to partake in the free food and drink at the awards dinner.

​Due to some rather shady practices by the judges, Lord John was robbed of his award. Even more surprisingly, the four of us made it to the end of the night without getting thrown out and had a rather enjoyable evening sharing a table with the Talbot Sunbeam Alpine owners club.

​Tosh and Gus knew them from when they bought the Talbot Sunbeam that tried to kill Tosh and me on the second Peaks tour. Details of which can be found in my blog www.britishmotorvehicles.com/members-blogs/the-peak-district-tour-2-part-2 (I know. Shameless self-promoter aren’t I?)

​Now the night before, when the Brooks and I went out for our meal, Gus made the schoolboy error of admitting that he didn’t drink much anymore. So we made him drive. When we got back to the car, I programed the sat nav and we set off for our hotel, only to find that the gates were closed and locked. So we went in search of another way out. That was locked too. As were the 14 other gates we tried.

​Dawn was fast approaching when we found ourselves back at the 1st gate, where we finally noticed the huge sign with the security teams phone number on. We called it and were given the instructions on the actual way out and were then able to follow the sat nav instructions back to the hotel with only one minor detour when Gus made another schoolboy error and listened to the drunk person next to him instead of the sat nav.
 
Saturday morning arrived far too soon for some of us and bleary eyed, we met up in the hotel car park.  Gus drove us back to the NEC where, because the hotel didn’t really offer breakfast, Phil miraculously produced a Primus stove and some bacon and we had a car park fry up in the East one, instantly curing all hang overs. Before getting the shuttle bus to the halls. Which broke down and needed the air pumping back up in order to lift the bus and let the brakes off. Once that was done, the bus set off for the halls again. Then promptly got lost as they’d changed the direction of incoming traffic whilst we were waiting.
 
When we finally arrived at our stand, we were relieved to see that it was already manned by Anthony and no muggles or visiting members had missed out on any cake. Thanks again Anthony.
 
Saturday was quite a busy day with lots of visitors to the stand including my wife and senior daughter bearing sausage plait and many of our members stopping by for a chat and cake. I’d particularly like to thank Windy Woodward, Bernard Owen, Big Liam White and Finlay, Graham Adams and Dangerous Dave Aikman who not only turned up and ate cake but also helped man the stand giving us a bit of time to have a look around. (I think Windy and Bernard just wanted more sausage plait though!)
 
During this time many of us had caught the wonderful whiff of petrol while on our stand, we weren’t concerned though and just blamed it on the Sporting Bears doing a wonderful job raising money for charity just down the hall from us. Actually, it  turned out to be coming from Alison’s A35 Jessika, who’d got just a bit too excited with the occasion and suffered a bit of incontinence. Fuel was slowly seeping out from the bottom of the tank. Super Enthusiast man (Gus Brooks) was delighted! He immediately dashed off and bought some Chemical Metal and set about a repair.

​Later on Saturday, we found yet another good reason to thank Anthony and Pat for coming. It turns out that their daughter, Sarah Womack (who is a master baker and cake decorator, no less) presented us with this wonderful cake. It was almost a shame to cut and eat it, but somehow, we managed to. Thank you very much Anthony and Sarah.

​After another car park fry-up by Phil and a quieter Saturday night in the curry house, we were all much more refreshed for our Sunday stint. Visitor volume on the Sunday was steady but not crowded which gave me time away from the cake and to actually get to see some of the rest of the show. So, with “that bloody GoPro” in hand, I set off to immortalise all the cars at the show. Well, at least the ones I thought you’d find interesting. I also photographed the ones I found interesting.
 
So here are some of the cars Sophie and I found interesting.

Yes. There were loads of other interesting cars too, but we were focused on using the "Bloody GoPro"!

​Then of course, there are my two outstanding cars of the show. I know, It’s another pre-war Triumph Dolomite. Yes, I know I always wax lyrical about them on every NEC car show blog I’ve ever written, but this is the only place I’ve ever seen one in the flesh and come on, this one is achingly beautiful. Not only the stunning waterfall grill but that Art Deco interior is just wonderful. Please bear with me while I take a moment…

And now to my favourite car of the show. The gorgeous Triumph Fury. I’ve admired this car via internet photos for years and here it was, actually in the flesh. I came over all star-struck just as if I’d met a famous celebrity.
 
The Fury was a one-off prototype, designed by Giovanni Michelotti no less. Yes, He of Triumph Herald fame. OK, He designed for Ferrari and Maserati too but obviously, his best work was with Triumph.

​The Fury with its 2.0L straight 6 engine was designed to fill the perceived gap in Triumph sports car range between the diminutive Spitfire and the big butch TRs and in my mind it would have done this job superbly. In my opinion it is a true beauty. The penny pinchers that decided it would be too expensive to tool up for it should be ashamed of ending this lovely cars future.

​Imagine my delight when I realised that the current custodian of the car is a fellow member of our very own group, Janet Weitzmann. This makes it much easier for me to stalk and bombard her with invitations to attend one of our live tours and take me for a ride in it. (Please Janet, pretty please?)

Of course, our stand wasn’t the only huge success at the show from our group members. So I would like to express our admiration and congratulations to fellow member Mark Wilson, who with his E-Type Jaguar helped the Sporting Bears Raise a massive £29,000 over the weekend for their chosen charities. A fantastic job as always from the Sporting Bears

​Congratulations must also go to another fellow member. Shiny, Shiny Junior Jake Clappison. Following in his father’s footsteps, he won the Lancaster Insurance Pride of Ownership competition for having the shiniest Triumph Spitfire car ever in existence. Jake has also promised to join us on tour and me take for a ride. That’s if I can see past the reflective glare to get into the car.

​And that’s it for this year’s shiny show at the NEC apart from to say that we had the easiest show breakdown ever and were out of the halls by 6PM. (Note to Gar. Make sure we have a car big enough to chuck the stand in, on the stand!  Thanks Lincoln.)
 
So huge thanks to Lincoln Hunt, Nick Arthur, Gus, Tosh and Allison Brooks and Anthony and Pat Osborne for showing your cars, all your help, the laughs and the cake. You made it a great weekend chaps.
 
Thanks also to Skipper Paul Sweeney and Events Coordinator Gar Cole for all the behind the scenes skulduggery that goes into putting the show on.
 
Biggest thanks of all go to Sarah Womack for the cake and Mrs FB Anita Peake for the sausage plait.
 
So, Thanks for reading and see you next time!
 
Our next tour is the Ffffffffreezing Forest of Dean tour in February followed by the Restoration show back at the NEC in March. Gar has a truly cracking stand planned for this one so don’t miss it.

​You’re wondering about all that footage from the “bloody GoPro” aren’t you?  Well as I write, the SD card is off to be “looked at “ by experts as it was showing an SD error message in the bloody GoPro and was unreadable on any other device I plugged it into.

​With any luck, the experts will sort it though. In the meantime, Skipper Sweeney has managed to make a short highlights video from bits and pieces Sophie and I filmed using our phones and you can watch that below. If the footage on the Go Pro can be saved, there will be more to come.
 
See you soon.

By Mike Peake

Hello Chaps. Sorry, it’s been awhile and all has been really quite busy in the Fatbloke household due to narrowly missing redundancy and starting a new job with the same company. However, I wasn’t going to miss this tour. We have been looking forward to the Fat Lamb tour since Paul the Landlord approached us on our stand at the NEC in November 2019 and told us about the packages he offers of 3 nights full board and pre planned tours. The weekend was originally booked for October 2020 but for some reason I can’t quite remember, it had to be postponed to March 2021 and then postponed to October 2021. So, after all the extended anticipation, it was finally here.
 
Cumbria is a very long way away from the sunny climes of Wiltshire, and despite Poppy’s brand new water proof and nearly draft proof new roof and me lying to Mrs FB that I’d fixed Poppy’s heating , Mrs FB was strongly against a 600 mile round trip in Poppy just to get to the venue. Well, I was all for leaving her behind but then Anita had a bit of a brainwave and suggested we hire a trailer for the weekend and take Poppy up behind the modern. I thought the cost of this would be prohibitive but one call to the local trailer hire shop and I’d booked one for little more than the cost of polishing products.
 
Thursday dawned and I set off to collect the trailer and then Poppy from the lockup, loaded her up and strapped her down. I’ve only ever strapped a car to her trailer once before and that was 20 years ago when I first  bought Poppy. It took some fumbling and head scratching but I think I had it all worked out and done marginally quicker and more professionally than Nick and Gar when they trailered the Everards Beer Barrel van to our stand at the NEC.

​With Poppy all loaded and our luggage packed into the spacious boot of my new Mazda CX-5 tow car we headed off on a comfortable, relaxed, draft-free and dry trip to Newcastle on Tyne. Yes, I know. That Fat Lamb isn’t in Newcastle, but my youngest daughter Emily-Fleur is and as we were risking nosebleeds and the bends driving so far north, we thought we’d take the opportunity of visiting her too and helping her look at BMW Minis to buy.

​We didn’t find a Mini to buy. So on Friday afternoon we set off for the short 90 minute drive to Kirkby Steven and the Fat Lamb. Now as I mentioned above, it’s been quite busy and I hadn’t  had time to pay Poppy any attention before our trip other than the usual tyre pressure and fluid checks. In fact, Poppy has been on the Oatcake tour, dear Zebidee’s funeral and the trip to Brumagen to get the new roof fitted since the last time I’d washed her and as a result she was quite besmeared with road dirt and mud splatters. So much so that that Mrs FB said she’d be ashamed to be seen in Poppy amongst all the sparkling, spotlessly gleaming supercars that our tours attract. So on the way, I found a car wash and made Mrs FB wash Poppy.

​After a pleasant drive over the top of England,

​we were one of the first to arrive at our home for the weekend. We unloaded Poppy from the trailer and hid the tow car and trailer in the field next to the pub so our fellow tourers wouldn’t call Poppy a Pampered Trailer Queen. We checked in and waited to greet our fellow guests as they arrived.

Once everyone had arrived and greetings were made, the evening was given over to food, wine, Lorraine’s 21st birthday (for the 29th time), beer, food and wine. Did I mention wine?
 
Anyway the food at the Fat Lamb was really rather excellent and of EPIC portions. So much so, that when Lorraine’s rather delicious looking Baileys Birthday Cake arrived, we were all so full that we couldn’t actually eat any of it. No really!! We were all so ashamed that we took ourselves to bed immediately. Then we went back down to the Bar for more frivolity and shenanigans. All in all, it was a rather good first night.
 
Breakfast the following morning was at the civilised time of 9 o’clock and as per the previous evening, lacked any form of portion control whatsoever. Well at least for those of us staying at the Fat Lamb. However, the Fat Lamb being chock full of increasingly fatter Enthusiasts, there wasn’t room for all of us and some were staying at another guest house about a mile away.
 
So, imagine our shock and horror when well-known gastro king Tosh Brooks put a message in our group chat that all he had was a cold croissant! We all felt very sorry for him and hardly any of us didn’t laugh heartily or waste any time sending him photos or describing in detail our feast of bacon, sausage, egg, black pudding, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, kippers, coffee,  toast, marmalade, and pots of tea.

After breakfast our host Paul arrived for the morning briefing and presented us daffodil diagrams of our route for the day (Err… I think you mean “Tulip” diagrams Mike - Ed).  Then, we all waddled outside and prepared for the off.

​There was one slightly scary moment when Lizzie, Brian’s XJ40 failed to produce so much as a click when the ignition was turned, but Super Enthusiast Man Gus Brooks soon identified and fixed the bad earth responsible and now, we really were ready for the off.

​Our host Paul, wouldn’t be leading the tour but would be driving his gorgeous Austin Healy 3000 like he stole it in order to get ahead of us and take photos of us all enjoying ourselves at picturesque spots along the route.
 
So after a brief tussle of us all filling the exit with classics as no one had actually read the route and was therefore willing to lead, Graham and Sue in Humphrey were forced to the front. However, this may have been a bit of a mistake because on the extremely rare occasions that Humphrey is actually running, Graham drives him in a very spirited manner and the rest of us had great fun trying to keep up with the newlyweds and ignore our co drivers telling us to slow down so they could enjoy the scenery. (or was that just me?) The new Mrs Adams did a superb job of navigation too as we didn’t go wrong once.
 
The route was fantastic with great driving roads and beautiful scenery as you will have seen in our YouTube video. My particular favourite was the climb up to Hartside Summit which at an altitude of 1903 ft above sea level was bound to have some commanding views.

​After a quick lunch stop at the Alston House Hotel in Alston, young Lucas Allin managed to make us all green with envy by blagging a seat in the big Healey when we set off for some big waterfall that no one can remember the name of! (Useless! The lot of you!). Gar and Breezy had taken over the lead at this point to loud screams of “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” from those veterans of the Welsh Heavy Engineering tour. At a much more sedate pace, Gar instantly led us all the wrong way. Fortunately, someone in the convoy had read the tour notes by this point so the mistake was quickly identified and rectified with Gar banished to the middle of the convoy.

​A lovely drive ensued before an abrupt stop in the middle of nowhere due to a sudden and unannounced road closure. After much head scratching it was decided we would head back to Alston petrol station for a meeting to decide what to do.  Having watched everyone else 74-point turn in the narrow road, I smugly put Poppy on full steering lock and did the manoeuvre in one hit. (Got to love a Herald turning circle!)

​We all headed back to Alston only to be confronted by another road closure; cue panic and multiple U-turns. We finally managed to get to the garage where a meeting was held. It was decided that as we couldn’t get to the waterfall of the unknown name, we would head back to the Fat Lamb after admiring a rather gorgeous Morris Commercial.

​It appeared that none of us had really paid attention to Pauls detailed verbal instruction on a nice route back as we all tried to follow Paul. However, not many of us could maintain “Warp Speed” back down Hartside Pass and the convoy didn’t last long before we’d all broken up and gone in different directions. We did all make it back in ones and twos via stops in Kirkby Stephen to replenish fuel tanks for the next day.
 
It was now time to return our focus to the main reason of our tour. Yes, drinking, eating and having a great time with a truly lovely bunch of people. Another great night was had and we all retired to our warm and comfy “not camping” beds.
 
Well, I say all, but as I have said, Tosh and Gus were staying at a different hotel and it appeared that the management of this hotel had taken umbrage to Tosh’s own particular form of quiet acceptance of a cold croissant for breakfast and locked them out. Much shouting, banging on doors and phone calls made enough noise to raise the dead but not the hotel proprietor, necessitating the need for the brothers Brooks to scale the garden fence and try banging on the back door and windows and shouting loudly. This was met with the same level of success as the previous hullabaloo and the brothers fell quiet as they needed to think of a cunning plan.
 
Being the Brooks brothers, cunning was beyond them but they could see that the old fashioned sash window of their 1st floor bedroom window was slightly ajar. Being died-in-the-wool Doncaster lads, a bit of breaking and entering was second nature. Using an upturned garden bench as a ladder they were soon tucked up and snoring comfortably in their beds. I can only imagine the Landlord’s face when they strolled in for breakfast the following morning. I’m guessing it was slightly less thunderstruck than Tosh’s when he realised it was cold croissants for breakfast again.
 
In marked contrast, the look on the faces of the enthusiasts staying at the Fat Lamb was that of contentment after another lavish breakfast.
 
Paul wouldn’t be joining us for the tour on the Sunday. The local Ferrari owners club and Porsche owners club had selected his car park as the venue for their annual punch up and Paul was needed to referee, so we set off on our own for a sedate drive through wonderful scenery of the Yorkshire dales to Wensleydale. Not before having to pay “The Gatekeeper of the Dales” a toll of shortbread before he would to let us pass though.

​The Brooks' Daimler was starting to overheat a bit causing a couple of unscheduled stops but we put them to good use taking photos and enjoying a chat.

​The route also took us via the famed Buttertubs Pass. It deserves it’s fame! It was a fantastic drive. So much so that when we all parked up at the top, Graham and I took Poppy and Humphrey back down so we could do it again only this time without screams of fear from our co drivers. Tosh jumped in with me so there is a video record of the drive.

​Our lunch stop was the Wensleydale Creamery. I’m not quite sure how, but Poppy’s very expensive new roof was acting as the table top for the sharing of sausage plait and cake before heading in for coffee and even more cake and buying the entire cheese counter to take home. 

​Once I’d recovered from all the knives in close proximity to my smart new vinyl, it was time to head off again back to the Fat Lamb through even more breath taking scenery via Tan Hill and the highest pub in the country.

That brings us back to the Fat Lamb after another beautiful day’s touring. The pace was a little more sedate than that of Saturday’s but certainly no less fun with more time to take in the views.
 
Once back at the hotel, I decided I would load Poppy onto her trailer to save time in the morning. The strapping down went much more smoothly than before, but then a problem was spotted. One of the clamps at the front that hold the load bed in the “down” position had broken and no amount of fiddling by myself or John Dixon could get it back into place. (Thanks John). The decision was made to use a spare ratchet strap to and tie it down.
 
Then, I hit another snag. My brand new Mazda tow car wouldn’t tow Poppy off the wet grass field without wheel spinning and bogging down. There was nothing else for it but an embarrassing call for help in our group chat. Laughing Enthusiasts poured out of the hotel to watch the fun and help when they’d finished laughing at me and telling me it served me right for turning Poppy into a pampered trailer queen.

​Help they did though. John Ticehurst produced a tow rope and Phil Allin produced a V8 Rover P5B. We positioned Big Rov so his rear wheels were still on hard standing and the tow rope just reached the towing eye on the Mazda. With a big V8 roar and bit of wheel spin sending gravel to pebble dash the front of the Mazda, we were out and back on a metalled road surface. So huge thanks to everyone for the help and er, sympathy.

So, apart from my towing problems, Tosh’s breakfasts, Tosh’s B&E, and Tosh’s Daimler overheating, it had been a remarkably breakdown-free weekend and we all thoroughly  enjoyed ourselves. (Except maybe an underemployed Super Enthusiast Man who’d had nothing to mend.) So we all headed back into the hotel for a final evening of great food, great laughs and more shenanigans. In fact, we’d all enjoyed ourselves so much that we made sure we booked the same weekend next year for a return run when hopefully more stuff will go wrong and make the blog easier to write.
 
The next morning, after everyone except Tosh had had another lavish breakfast, we all said our goodbyes and headed for our homes.
 
If anyone is still here, thanks for taking time to read this. If you need more pictures and videos of the tour, follow this link to the photo gallery or this link to watch the video on our YouTube channel.
 
Our tours are open to all members, so if you fancy joining us keep an eye on our events section to see what we’re up to.

​NEC Next. See you there.

​Two short weeks after the Dorset tour, it was time for more fun and shenanigans. Friday at 1PM found me heading off to the Derbyshire Peaks with a car full of camping equipment and wine for our Group’s visit to the Crich Tramway Museum on the Saturday and a short tour on the Sunday.
 
3.5 hours of solid driving later, I arrived at the campsite. The lack of decompression stops proved to be a bit foolish when traveling so far north as I think I had a case of the bends when I got there, but I battled through and managed to get my tent pitched whilst it was still dry.

​Socially distant greetings were made to my fellow campers before we all headed off to Matlock Bath for our fish and chip supper. Which was delicious. Never had haddock before but when oop norf, do as the norverners do eh?

​I found Matlock to be a beautiful but rather strange little town. It is your quintessentially English seaside town but about as far away from the sea as you can get in the UK. I loved it. Even the forecasted rain held off long enough for us to enjoy our meal on the pavement and complete an evening of fun, frivolity and merriment back at the campsite. Was that a misfire from Poppy on the way back? No. It couldn’t be. Poppy doesn’t do that sort of thing.

​The next morning didn’t so much dawn as arrive on the crest of a wave of biblical rainfall. As forecast. Some of the day trippers had - unsurprisingly - dropped out and I think if others hadn’t already set off, our Fat Controller of events (Gar Cole) would have pulled the plug. He didn’t though and after the hearty full (and I mean FULL) English breakfast provided by Windy Woodward and his son Breezy, It was time to set off for the Crich Tramway Museum. Where, to our surprise, a lot more people had braved the weather to join us than we expected. Including several 1st timers at our live events.
 
So let me introduce everyone. 1st the newbies,
 
Rob Smith and his wife with their gorgeous P5B Saloon. It’s a long time since I’ve seen one of these in the flesh and after becoming used to Phil Allin’s Coupe, I found the different back end rather striking. It was even more like the stately home on wheels with that upright back end reminiscent of “battlements”. A beautiful and refined car just like the owners. Honest…

​Next up is Martin North in the rare 1966 Reliant Scimitar SE4. I’ve never seen one of these in real life before but this one was an excellent example to break my duck on and the 1st Reliant that could possibly tempt me out of Poppy. I loved it.

​Graham Ryder was in his Austin Princess. I have very fond memories of driving around South Wales in my Grandad’s on a family holiday so enjoyed seeing Graham’s fine example immensely.

Ray Prichard and his wife had bought their Pre Millennial Jaguar XJ8 X300 which looked very sophisticated parked up near the bandstand and a lot warmer and dryer inside than Poppy.

​The final newbie on the day was Max Carman in his Pre Millennial BMW. Sorry i didn't get a decent photo of it but you can just make it out in this one.

​Lee Stuart and Kurt Lawrence have been joining us at the events for a while now but without a classic of their own. Fed up with feeling left out, Lee purchased a lovely little MGB GT just so that he could join in fully with our tours and have all the fun of breaking down, but more on that later.

​Anthony and Pat Osborne, whilst not new to our events either, did decide to show off the fact that they have multiple classics by turning up in a really beautiful 1938 Austin Lt12/4 New Ascot called Herbert. Herbert was the feature of Anthony’s rather splendid 2 part blog already carried on this website, so I won’t go into detail other than to say we all rather fell in love with Herbert who is officially, the oldest car to attend one of our real world outdoor events.  (Yes, I know we had the Brooks’ 1938 Austin Big 7 but that was three or four years ago. Therefore, this car was 3 or 4 years older when it joined us on tour.)

Anthony's blogs about refurbishing Herbert can be found here: Part 1 and here: Part 2

​It was great to see the new faces and the cars. Especial on such an incredibly soggy day. I hope you all felt welcome, enjoyed yourselves and will join us again soon. I would like to say that the weather is usually better than this but I would be lying if I did.
 
Now some more familiar cars.

​Gus Brooks, Lincoln Hunt Mr Jones and Paul Cheetham let us all down by turning up in moderns but everyone is still welcome.
 
Humphrey the Humber had thrown a hissy fit the day before Graham Adams and Sue Clamp were driving up for the event, but Phil Allin very generously saved the day by lending them his Jaguar XJS for the weekend. He’s a top chap and it’s for acts like this, that I love this car group so much. 

​The day continued to be rather soggy but much fun and camaraderie were still enjoyed, walking round the village all with the umbrellas we’d purchased in the museum shop because we stupidly didn’t bring our own; tram rides were had and warming coffee was consumed.

​At lunch time, most of us sought the relative shelter of the Bandstand to consume copious amounts of cake and to chat about cars. As this was the very hallowed spot that my humble Lemon Drizzle cake became the “Award Winning Lemon Drizzle Cake”, it would have been rude not to bring a further offering. It was all gone within seconds of opening the tin. Fortunately, I have learned from previous experience and made sure I got my bit first. Many other offerings of cake were made by various members which disappeared just as fast, but now it was time for the slightly more formal events of the day.
 
Gus Brooks is a very active and valued member of this group. (He fixes all the cars that breakdown on tour. Some even say that he IS actually Super Enthusiast Man.) Last year Gus had his 60th Birthday but due to Covid it was only now, much belatedly, that we could celebrate with him. To mark the event we’d clubbed together to get him a special gift. Knowing how close Gus is to his brother Tosh, what else could we get him than a life size cardboard cut-out of said Brooks Brother. I think Gus liked it.

​This was closely followed by his “proper present”. Some time ago, Gus posted a picture of himself sat in Henry, his JC Midge with his Grandson Seth sat in Henry Junior, a pedal car built for Seth by Gus. It was an instant hit with the group and with the funds collected, Gar Cole commissioned an artist to convert this photo into an oil on canvas painting with the Brooklands buildings as a back drop. It looked fantastic. We were all very pleased with Gus’s reaction to the gift until it seemed that he got something in his eye. So on behalf of everybody, thanks for all you do for us, Gus.

​Another hugely valued member of the group is our beloved Fat controller of events Gar Cole. Gar works tirelessly behind the scenes to organise our group’s stands at the formal NEC car shows as well as organising most of our other tours and events. Not only that but Old Mother Cole cooks us smashing and filling campsite meals. So it was felt that he was deserving of a thank you gift which was organised by Sue Clamp who arranged a very fine framed sketch of Errol, Gar’s Triumph 2000.

​So after a great and soggy day, it was time to say goodbye to most of the day trippers and head back to the campsite with a few of the day trippers that decided to join us for Old Mother Cole’s Classic Curry. Was that another misfire? No. It couldn’t be. It must just be the wet weather.
 
After the absolute disaster of a tour in Dorset 2 weeks ago, where nothing broke down and Gus didn’t have anything to fix, Phil and Gar bought him some special electrickery boxes that needed fitting to their respective cars to aid the towing of their caravans whilst Ian broke the electric fan on his Granada just so we could keep Gus entertained whilst the curry cooked.

​With 3 cars fixed in quick order it was time to settle down with our very fine curry and quite a bit of alcohol to enjoy the evening with great company until it was time for the day trippers to head off, leaving just the campers in the shelter. It was at this point, after the last lady had left, that the full consequences of feeding middle aged car enthusiasts curry became apparent.

​Not me of course. I’m a gentleman and refrain from such uncouth behaviour. Let’s just say though, that it was very reminiscent of the campfire scene from the Mel Brooks film, Blazing Saddles. The tone of the evening descended faster than a Derbyshire pit lift at the start of the shift. School boy toilet humour was the order of the evening and it was all very silly and childish …….. and smelly. I haven’t laughed so much since the start of lock down. It was just what the doctor ordered.

​As the rain falling on my tent and the Arctic cold had kept me awake the previous night, I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, especially as I’d taken the precaution of making sure that my blood wouldn’t freeze solid by taking on plenty of alcohol for its “antifreeze” properties. However, wind was a continuing feature of the night. The meteorological kind this time though. The forecast gales arrived and I had to spend most of the night clutching canvas to ensure my tent didn’t blow away.

​This continued until day light broke to Phil Allin shouting through the tent to ask if I fancied a brew. I politely declined this ridiculously early but kind offer. Well fairly politely. OK, maybe I wasn’t polite at all, but in my defence, I really needed an extra hour snuggled in my sleeping bag.
 
The smell of bacon wafting from Windy Woodwards caravan was far more attractive than the usual emanations that waft from this van and finally drew me out of my slightly ruffled gentlemen’s abode to enjoy another relaxed and very full English breakfast.
 
Now fully dressed and full of breakfast it was time for the part of the weekend I was most looking forward to. Yes the touring. Peak District aficionado Phil Allin had excelled himself yet again with superb route  and day-trippers were joining us at the campsite for the event.
 
Anthony and Pat Osborne re-joined us again, but this time in yet another “new to our events” car - a very good-looking MGB. Lincoln Hunt also re-joined us but this time he’d managed to extract his splendid Mk1 Range Rover from storage. Richie Moore joined us in his Sierra estate, Graham and Sue came back in Phil’s XJS and John Dixon returned in his Austin Cambridge. Dave Aiken also joined us to car-hop for the day. 

Of course us campers were raring to go; not before the star car of the weekend arrived though. Phil Gunn brought his absolutely drop-dead gorgeous 1937 Alvis, which immediately broke Anthony and Pat’s short lived record for the oldest car on tour and also the record for the most enthusiasts gathered to drool.

​So, with everyone present and drool removed from chins it was time to depart the campsite for the day.
 
Poppy took a little extra churning before starting a bit lumpily but soon settled down to her normal smooth purr and we all set off in convoy with our excellently prepared tour route and maps placed , un-read, on our passenger seats. Our 1st stop was at Middleton Top for a great photo opportunity and to look at the engine shed which housed the  stationary team engine used to help pull the trains up Middleton Incline.

​After our stop, we all headed off for Tissington Ford apart from our Essex Boys John Ticehurst and Giles Anderson who headed of f on their long Journey home. They missed out on the lovely drive to Tissington. (That WAS a misfire from Poppy. I’m pretty sure it was. Then again…)
 
The plan was that we would pull into the layby at Tissington Ford to assess the height of the water after yesterday’s biblical rainfall and decide whether we would go through or not. However, when we arrived there were a couple of moderns coming through the other way and there wasn’t room for us all to stop.

​At least, that was Phil’s excuse after surging straight though without a pause. My plan was to wait and see if the MG’s made it through without floating away before I decided to brave it. This was not to be though as I was 2nd in the convoy. So, figuring that Lincoln’s Range Rover could pull me out if there was a problem, I gathered up my courage set the throttle for fast revs, feathered the clutch and followed Big Rov through the ford and up the hill where we waited to see if anyone else made it.

​And they did. Obviously the Range Rover and the Alvis made it through with no problems whatsoever and the rest arrived with varying degrees of fear etched onto their faces. We’d all made it. Well, mostly. For reasons known only to himself, Lee stopped his MGB GT in the middle of the ford, reversed a couple of paces and then continued out of the ford and spluttered up the hill to where we were all parked. It was still running though so we headed off again and thought no more about it.

Wetton Tunnel was next on the itinerary and we were all looking forward to taking this on again. We all powered through like hooligans making as much noise as possible. Well, all except Lee who spluttered coughed and kangerooed through and Gar who forgot about the sharp right hand bend at the end of the tunnel and had to bail out down a conveniently placed grass truck. It was immense fun and we all pulled over to congratulate ourselves and chat to the walkers that were there.

​Finally it was some fairly gentle driving to Caudwell Water Mill for a well-earned late lunch where Phil Allin loves nothing more than spending a Sunday afternoon pretending to be a garden gnome.

After delicious food, and a good natter it was time for us to head off in different directions for wherever we called home. Well almost, but 1st Lincoln had to get Lee’s MG going again which was refusing to start. When it was running, goodbyes were said and us campers headed back to the campsite to pack up. Which is where we discovered that Phil had left the front locker open on his caravan. So naturally, a final piece of mischief was compulsory. We stole the contents and hid it all before he came back.
 
Surprisingly, my 30 year old tent had completely dried out while we were pootling and I soon had it all packed away in Poppy. Final goodbyes were said  and Poppy and I set off on the 3.5 hour drive home.
 
I’d like to say that it was a completely trouble-free drive. I’d like to say that but I can’t. The misfire I’d been ignoring all weekend became steadily worse and worse. Poppy didn’t completely disgrace herself though and we did actually make it all the way home even if the last 2 miles were on 3 cylinders. Which I hear is more than Lee’s MG did.
 
 I’m no fortune teller but I do see that “Ignition fettling” will feature strongly in my very near future.
 
So, thanks to everyone that turned up and made this a thoroughly enjoyable weekend with special thanks to Gar and Phil for herding us cats around for the weekend.
 
Thanks for reading and thanks to everybody I've stolen photos from. Our next event is the Staffordshire Oatcake tour at the end of June. Please join us. You’ll have fun I promise.

​Wow! It’s been a long winter. Nothing to write about since November last year. Sorry, but I’m about to rectify that.
 
With the winter months behind us and Covid restrictions easing, the time was fast approaching that we could leave our bunkers. Our good group had plans of touring and derring-do, so it was time to undertake Poppy’s pre-season check-up. The check-up revealed the need for some new front brake pads. (Hence the title. It wasn’t a spelling error. Clever eh?) As I’ve never had to replace the pads in my 20 years of ownership, I didn’t begrudge spending the required £20 on parts.
 
Anyway, parts were ordered. Parts arrived. Parts were fitted. All without any major bumbling incompetence. Well apart from realising I hadn’t taken any photos for the blog during the process. So I took the wheel back off just to take this photo for you.

​After washing the winter grime off her remarkably red bodywork and adding a bit of wax, Poppy was ready for the season and our 1st group event, the Jurassic Coast Tour of Dorset - which I couldn’t go to as I’d promised Mrs FB that I would be painting the newly-plastered walls and ceilings in our lounge, dining room and kitchen. However, as the route the chaps were taking down on the Friday was taking them to within 20 minutes of my home, I decided to meet up with them at the Kemble Airfield.
 
Whilst I was waiting for them and taking pictures of Poppy, bumbling incompetence struck; I stumbled on the rough verge and fell flat on my face. The young chap sharing the layby and also taking pictures of the scrap aircraft came running over all concerned and started helping me back up again. I know! What a complete B&$^&*d!! You know what this means don’t you? I’m officially “OLD” otherwise he would have just laughed like any red blooded male does when another young chap makes a fool of himself!
 
Anyway, here’s the photo I was taking.

​It was really great to see everyone after so long.

​The Saturday dawned bright and sunny. Mrs FB and daughter number one headed off at 7.30 to save lives by stabbing hundreds of people in the arm and I was left staring at the walls and ceilings I was supposed to paint. It was really sunny though, and all my mates were a mere 80 miles away and about to have fun. I decided that the new plaster wasn’t fully dry enough for painting as it was only a month or so since it had been done. I opened the roof on Poppy and headed down to Dorset.
 
I won’t go into details as the tour has already been covered in Gar Cole’s excellent blog here. Just to say that I had a wonderful time with great friends and remarkably great weather. I even got to drive the Brook’s Stag which was awesome. I do love the sound of that V8. 

​My severely sunburned head was the only instance of bumbling incompetence too. There weren’t even any breakdowns for Super Enthusiast Man to deal with. So thanks everyone for a great day out and I’m only sorry I couldn’t stay for the evening’s drinking.
 
The old adage that “it is often better to seek forgiveness than ask permission” held true and Mrs FB was very forgiving as only a quick visit to A&E was required with no overnight stays. Worth it though. Great day out. Thanks to Gar for organising the trip and Gar’s Brother Neale for the superb dinner that I did stay for.

Thanks as always for taking the time to read this far. I'll be back soon with the Crich blog.

​There was no one there. No toilet blocks, no catering vans, no other classic cars, no one. Well I am a bit early I thought so I waited. At ten past 5, 2 mini buses arrived and about 30 Indian people got out and immediately congregated around Poppy exclaiming excitedly in Punjabi. It was a while before anyone approached me to ask if I was there for the filming and to tell me that everyone loved the car and she was exactly what they were after. Then they all left to congregate at the back of 2 Luton vans that had just arrived.
 
Gradually, at about 5.15am, other classics rolled into the Square. I was joined by a split screen VW camper, a Rolls Royce, Dale Scutter in his Hillman Minx, Craig in Josh’s very tatty Allegro 3 and 2 London taxis; one was a Metro Cab and the other was a 2001 TX1.

​Then, nothing happened at all until 7am when all the classics except Poppy and the camper were told to drive in convoy around Piccadilly Circus several times, which they did. The Rolls led, with one of the production coordinators riding shotgun to direct operations. Apparently on the 3rd lap he received a phone call, had a nervous breakdown and turned into a gibbering jelly, causing the Roller driver to lead the convoy into a one way bus lane and nearly crashing into an oncoming bus. Having narrowly avoided disaster, the Rolls led the convoy back to the Square and the production assistant was never seen again. Maybe this should have clued us in on how the rest of the day would go.
 
9am and still no sign of a catering bus or any toilets, so we drivers took matters into ourr own hands and went to a Café Nero up the road. A disorderly queue was formed  for the single toilet and very much needed strong coffee was ordered.
 
Still no catering van, but breakfast of sorts arrived at about 10.30am.

​At 2.30 pm we were all told to head off in convoy and drive around Trafalgar Square several times. It was pointed out that you can no longer drive all the way around Trafalgar Square and the necessary detour would take several minutes.

​This didn’t seem to worry the production crew overly and we were told to get on with it so we did. We managed to stay in convoy for the 1st lap but by the time we’d been up around Aldwych and back we had moderns between us and even more by the 3rd and 4th lap so we gave up and went back to St James Square. Of course, as is the way with London, all our parking spaces in the square had been taken and we were forced to double park and keep an eagle eye for wardens.

​None of us had seen any cameras filming us on our drive and I began to suspect that it had all been a ploy to silence the more vocal among the frustrated drivers.

​It was however, great fun driving a classic through central London. The tourists are less reserved than the normal British public and shouted, waved and took plenty of photos. One lady told me Poppy was her “Dream car” whilst she took photos at a pedestrian crossing. Even “proper Londoners” seemed impressed with several cabbies winding down their windows and calling out “Lovely motaa Guvna” and giving me a big thumbs up. I even had a chauffeur in a luxury Mercedes pull up alongside me and telling me his sister had one back in the day, before saying that they look much smaller now especially with me driving. It took me a while to figure out, but I think he was calling me fat!
 
Anyway, the day continued pretty much as before with zero communication from the production team. Lunch turned up at about 3.30pm and looked just as appetising as breakfast.

​It got better though. The couple in the back were told to be “as passionate as you can be whilst keeping your clothes on” and the young lady next to me was told to be the same with my left hand side while I kept my eyes resolutely on the road. The poor young lady did extremely well in quickly masking the look of horror that passed across her face but I was less successful at hiding my soppy grin. Anyway for some reason, it took 47 takes before we got it right and the Director was getting quite cross with me. I really can’t think why I went wrong so often. The actors loved the attention Poppy and therefore they were getting from the public on the drives to the location.
 
And that was it. I was handed a wodge of folding money which was nice, as after my acting debut, I would quite happily have done it for free. I was slightly disappointed that I wasn’t going to be in one of those famous big Bollywood dance numbers, but I suppose that would be asking too much of Lady Luck!
 
Goodbyes were said and I set off home in the London rush hour. Even that was quite pleasant though as traffic was a lot lighter than usual because of COVID I guess, and loads of Londoners wanted to chat about Poppy while we were stuck in the queues. I’ve not driven a classic in London before and it was much nicer than I was expecting.
 
2 hours of faultless and quite rapid driving (for a 50 year old car) later I pulled up at home and I made a full  confession to Mrs FB. She was cross. Very cross, but not because I was canoodling with a young lady .No,  Apparently, my behaviour was less than COVID-aware and I should be more careful.
 
Anyway, for whatever reason, I am now quarantined in the caravan on the drive. I’m hoping that it is only for the 2 weeks suggested by the Government but I’ll let you know. Oh, and last night, I was told they wanted Poppy back. Not sure when though. I agreed instantly.
 
The when was Sunday, at the much more sensible time of 3pm and it was at Heathrow instead of central London. Poppy continued to be a proper show off and it seemed as if all the crew and actors wanted their photo taken with her. I think it was Poppy’s version of giving autographs.

​The reason Poppy was needed again was that the scene taken in central London last time, was far too “steamy” for Punjabi cinema and needed reshooting.
 
Natalie (Yes, I know her name now) and I were told to carry on as pretty much as before, but the 2 in the back were told to tone it down a touch. As it was the scene taken out of the camper, looking down into Poppy’s open cockpit, we only had to pull up alongside the camper and act. If you can call maintain a silly grin whilst being canoodled by a young lady acting, then I acted my socks off. We had it all in the can (I know! get me with the lingo!) in just 32 takes this time despite my best efforts.
 
A perfectly behaved Poppy then took me back home… to my quarantine caravan.
 
Stay safe everyone. I’ll be back when I’ve got something to write about.
 
Some creative licence may have been employed in the telling of this tale.

By Mike Peake

​Hello chaps. Well that’s another 6 months gone by without a blog. That makes only two blogs in the last 12 months. I’m going to assume that you’ve missed me as it’s far better for my ego that way, and apologise for my laziness, but with no shows or tours this year, it has been a real struggle to find enough material to fill a whole blog. However, I’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel, (what do you mean “What’s new”?) and hope I’ve got enough to keep you amused for a few minutes.
 
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.
 
One of the 1st things I did to Poppy when I bought her was to have the 1968 Motorola radio that she’d been fitted with reconditioned, converted to FM and fitted with an auxiliary lead so I could play a Walkman through the radio. The radio was fine, however the auxiliary lead had never worked well. It was just a 1.5 meter lead coming out the back of the radio with a jack plug on which got in the way as it just trailed on the floor. I sort of fixed it by drilling a small hole in the back of the glove box and feeding the lead into the box, but in fixing one problem, I created another. It was very difficult now to change the music whilst driving but was good enough. All this was 20 years ago. Technology has moved on. Now, I have an iPhone. I have maps on my iPhone. I have a handy speedometer app on my iPhone and I have most of my music collection on my iPhone. Best of all, it all works at the same time. The problem was, I couldn’t plug it into the radio for my tunes or it would be in the glove box and I couldn’t see my satnav, or I could see my satnav but had no tunes.
 
I decided it needed fixing. I managed to find some 3.5mm sockets online and purchased the minimum order quantity of 5. Which at the time was rather annoying.
 
So, I cut off the jack plug on the auxiliary lead and pulled it out of the glove box. Then, rather cunningly, I plugged the plug into my new sockets and using the continuity tester on my multimeter, I was able to establish what colour wire went to which pin on the back of the socket.  Then, using my grandfather’s (No, not the bus driver) soldering iron which is older than me, I made my 1st attempt. It didn’t go well. Let’s just say that I was glad that the MOQ of 3.5mm jack sockets is more than one.
 
As you can see, the 2nd …ish attempt was far more successful.

​Now, before anyone takes the Mickey, I would like to remind you all that you won’t be able to see the joints unless you find yourself upside down in the passenger seat with your head in the floor well. If you do happen to find yourself in this position then I assure you that you will have other things on your mind than thinking “Oh, look at those ugly joints.”
 
Further, when I plugged it all in and turned it on, it all worked beautifully. That, in my book, is all the elements of a perfectly executed soldered joint.
 
Next up, was mounting the socket in the car. Along with my 1968 Motorola radio, Poppy came with it fitted in the original dealer fit console and speaker box. Apparently, these are rarer than rocking horse doodoos now so I thought long and hard about drilling a hole in it. Then I drilled a hole in it.
 
My thinking was that A. it was the best place for it. B. the socket was small and metallic so will be hardly noticeable. And C. it’s my car, my console so yaa boo sucks to anyone who says different.

​I think it all looks rather neat and it works a treat. Unfortunately, I can’t show a picture of my phone all mounted up and connected because my camera is on my phone, which was all mounted up and connected. I’m ashamed to say that it took me several minutes of searching for my phone to take a picture before I realised this.
 
I’m really pleased with the job, as I can now be told where to go whilst listening to Deep Purple. Just like being at home with Mrs FB really.
 
Next up on my list jobs to do was give Poppy a service and while I was at it, I’d change the oil pressure sensor which stopped working after my old jump-leads melted when attached to the starter in close proximity. I’d also replace the coolant drain tap on the engine block which had seized up. The service and the oil pressure sensor change all went really well. The drain tap on the other hand…
 
1st up, a socket wouldn’t fit on because of the tap bit being in the way so I spent a considerable time looking for the rather odd sized 13/16” spanner which I eventually found in the bottom of a very large box of odd sized imperial spanners that Muggle friends, neighbours and family keep giving me when they clear out their garages.
 
My problems didn’t end there. The only way to get the spanner on the tap was to squeeze my prop forward arms between the down pipe and the block, spend 3 minutes trying to fit the spanner onto the tap only to be able to turn ¼ of a turn before having to repeat the process endlessly. Then do it all again to fit the new tap… which leaked. So I tightened it up some more. It still wept from the tread so I tightened it up some more. This continued until all of a sudden, it started turning really easily. I said bad words. Very bad words. So I went through it all again to put the old one back on.

​I then spent a while staring at the stripped thread whilst fuming at the “cheap tat” that they get away with selling now. I stopped when I realised I sounded just like my Dad. So I took a picture of the stripped thread and posted it on Facebook asking everyone to fume at the “cheap tat” they get away with selling now. I’m going to replace it with a simple plug if anyone can point me in the right direction.
 
Now, as you may remember, I spent last summer re-spraying the rest of Poppy red and was telling everyone who asked why I hadn’t done the white stripe that I was waiting to make sure that the red was fully cured before sticking masking tape on it. I can now reveal that the real reason was that I’d lost the will to live and was thoroughly fed up with painting. A full 12 months later, I still felt the same. Fortunately, I have a very good friend in Saint Tosh “Ow Mooch” Brooks who took pity on me and volunteered to do my stripe for me. All I had to do was drive it up to his toy box on a farm near Doncaster. Which I did when COVID restrictions had lifted enough to allow this sort of thing.
 
As I was pulling up by the farm gate near a church, a lovely young lady came running over asking if she could borrow my “lovely little car” as they were doing a wedding photo shoot for a magazine. Well Poppy was immediately up for this and very flattered to be asked. I was unceremoniously kicked out while Poppy positioned herself in the most photogenic setting she could find.

​Photos by Hannah Sheerman Photography and I’m sure you’ll all agree, she did a fine job.
 
After this slight delay, it was down to Tosh’s Toy box where he worked his magic in fine style.
 
In the time it would have taken me to find a paint brush, Tosh had Poppy flatted back, masked up and sprayed. It was amazing to watch a master at work. Seriously, he had the job done in 2 hours flat. It would have taken me a week. I was really rather pleased. So a huge thanks is offered to Tosh. 

​What’s really great is that Poppy’s stripe is the same shade of white as Apollo, Tosh and Gus’s Rover P5B camper and a favourite amongst the group. It’s good to know that a bit of Apollo will stay with the group after that heartless old b…er…Yorkshire man sold her out from underneath us.

​A few more months went by with me, Poppy and the family off round the green lanes whenever possible to blow the cobwebs away and although we’ve lived in this town all our adult lives, I’m still discovering new roads

​Thanks for reading chaps and if it’s not too much for you, I shall be back shortly with tales of fame and Bollywood.
 
See you soon.

​Hello Chaps! Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it? You thought lockdown couldn’t get any worse didn’t you? But now I’m inflicting a blog on you so I’m really sorry.
 
It’s been over 6 months since our last little chat and quite a lot has happened. Classic car event after event has been cancelled. Poor Nelson, Gars Minor Triumph, met his Trafalgar in a ball of flame prompting us all to buy the fire extinguishers we’d been meaning to get for years but never quite got around to it (or was that just me?)
 
I can’t imagine how upset Gar must have been losing his pride and joy like that and we all commiserated fully with him. Of course Saint Brian of Enthusiastshire had to show off in his level of sympathy by giving Gar a spare Triumph 2000 he had lying around. Naturally, this level of generosity means that he is officially exiled from his home county of Yorkshire for bringing its name into disrepute - but what a lovely thing to do. He’s a very, very nice man. The story even made it into Classic Car Weekly.
 
Of course Gar is cock-a-hoop and has spent lockdown fettling and polishing to his heart’s content  and winding Brian up with tales of how he is going to deface Errol’s natural beauty with all sorts of hooligan mods. Brian isn’t fooled by this for a minute though. We all know how much Gar has fallen in love with Errol because he’s even dropped his plans to two-tone the car with a different colour roof and he can’t find a rear window louvre kit for the big saloon.

​The Brooks aren’t letting Lockdown  affect them in the slightest and have been churning out stunners like you wouldn’t believe. They’ve even developed a bit of a fibreglass fetish.

​Of course all are for sale at very reasonable rates if you would like to step into Tosh’s office. Although, there has been rumours that Tosh is actually planning on keeping one of them but no one really believes that.
 
His next project has also been announced and we’re all really looking forward to seeing the results.

​Our very own Ninja assassin Liam is really taking current events seriously; he has locked himself away in his Secret Squirrel Survival Bunker and is living like a king on stockpiled MRE’s and Lucozade whilst monitoring his CCTV ready to set off the claymore mines if anyone approaches.

​Nick Arthur is being banished to a caravan in Jo’s garden so he can be closer to his cars. Graham and Sue are panicking about their planned wedding in September and Andy ‘Two Pants’ Perman has discovered the Joys of writing blogs about his VDPs. In fact, go and read them now as they’re far better than this drivel.

​Me? What have I done?  You're still here then? Well I grew a beard. Impressive eh?

 
Everyone said I looked like Tosh Brooks though so I immediately shaved it off again.
 
I have been fortunate enough to be working from home full time during the crisis. The new commute has tuned out to be a bit of a problem though as the stairs quickly become gridlocked during rush hour.
 
Poppy? Well she was fine but very, very bored and lonely in her lock up far from home. (Well, not that far really but it sounded better in a literary sense.)
 
Winter was really horrible with not a single day with good enough weather to take her for a spin. Then, just as the weather turned glorious, we were put into lockdown and I couldn’t go and get her. Of course if I’d known at the time that we were allowed out to drive as part of an eye test I’d have been out like a shot.
 
However, lockdown restrictions were eased a bit in early May so I went to get her. She fired up on the 1st turn of the key. I washed off the New Forest dirt, gave her a wax and Emily and I took a grin-laden drive around the green lanes of Wiltshire to get some milk. I did notice that my headlights were no longer working when I pulled her out of the lockup but as it was a bright summers day, I didn’t let this bother me. I then parked her on my drive so I would be able to sort out a few niggles.

​Niggles? Surely not? I hear you say! Well yes. 3 to be precise. Well 3 I planned to look at anyway.
 
My heater hasn’t worked since I’ve had the car. I know that this may seem a bit slovenly to some but it’s only been 19 years and what’s the point of a heater in a car with no roof? Well if I want to go on winter tours with the chaps and want my wife to come with me, it turns out that a working heater IS quite important.
 
Since I’ve rebuilt my Carb I’ve been having trouble getting the tune right and suffering from a very fast tickover. I think I have now narrowed this down to a sticking throttle cable so this needed changing and while I was at it I’d change all the return springs to fix the floppy peddle.
 
Finally, I had to find out where all the electrickery for my headlights had gone. So I ordered all the parts I thought I would need.
 
The following weekend, with a box of shiny new parts to hand I set to work. I thought I’d do the easy job 1st which I deemed to be throttle cable. I removed the cable from the carburettor and immediately, my fast running issue was solved so that’s good. What wasn’t so good was when I went to remove the pedal. Turns out that the bracket was rusted quite badly. I couldn’t even see the old spring or split pin.

​It would have to come out. It’s only two bolts though so will be easy. 3 hours, 1 broken ratchet, a broken hacksaw blade and a shattered grinding wheel later, the pedal bracket was off. The cable and pedal were also now separated and a new shopping list started.

​As I could proceed no further with my pedal assembly, I turned my attention to the heater. I suspected that the valve was at fault as it was very stiff to operate and I had a shiny new one in my box of shiny new parts. So, the cable and pipes were removed from the old valve and the valve removed from the heater matrix. I then attached my hose pipe to the matrix and flushed it through until clear clean water was flowing out before fitting the shiny new valve, new rubber pipes and shiny new jubilee clips. Just the operating cable to attach now and job done. Well, it would have been if I hadn’t broken the pinch bolt doing it up too tightly.
 
It took a while but amongst all my “parts that will come in useful one day” supply, I found a new one that will do at a pinch (Haha! Get it? A pinch bolt that will do at a pinch! Hahahaha….ahem… sorry). The only trouble was that it was still attached to the brake cable on my daughters bicycle. She won’t miss it. The important thing was that it is now all back together. The heater still doesn’t work and the pipes to it aren’t getting even warm so I suspect an air lock. Anyone know how to cure this?

​Having not yet fixed anything despite hours and hours of work, I thought I’d see if I could relocate my headlamp electrickery. First, I spent an hour looking for the inline fuse that someone said was behind the dash on the passenger side. It wasn’t there. Someone had decided to move it into the engine bay. It wasn’t the inline fuse though. It was fine.

​So I followed the power wire from the fuse through the car dismantling stuff as I went to ease access and checking various connections with my trusty multimeter as I went. I found electrickery everywhere it should be and no holes in anything where it could leak out. I was now suspecting the master switch. Now this is only £20 for a new one (It really is!) so I wasn’t worried. I was worried however if the fire brigade would be able to get me back out from under the dash where I’d need to go to get to said switch.

​When able, I checked the inlet side of the switch and there was electrickery. So I checked the outlet side and found none! Aha!! Then I turned it on and the power flowed. It wasn’t the master switch. I continued to follow the electrickery towards the column switch. I was a little nervous now because the column switch comes in 4 parts and each part is £20. To my vast relief though, I found the problem. There was a blockage preventing the electrickery going through the connector where the rear lights branch out.

​Flushed with the success of my detective skills I went and added more parts to my shopping list. I managed to extricate myself from under the dash without the aid of the fire brigade so it may have been that I was flushed with.
 
Now, you know that picture from the interweb of the wrecked house that someone had painted “Got the Spider “ on?

​I know, made me chuckle for ages. Well I’m not chuckling now!

​I’d spent most of the day working on my car and hadn’t actually finished fixing anything other than a new shopping list of required parts.
 
I did manage to successfully fit the new number plates the girls bought me. After all 23rd of May was Poppy’s 50th birthday, so I had to do something nice for her.

​I shut and locked the car door, tidied up, poured myself a glass of squash, fired up the computer and ordered more parts.
 
The next Friday afternoon with another box of shiny new parts, I set to with real conviction that today would be a productive day on the car!
 
With a lot of help from Emily I soon had the accelerator pedal assembly properly assembled and was finally able to get the carb properly tuned and had Poppy purring like a dream in no time.

​Next I cleared the blockage in the wiring and had electrickery flowing where it should and fully functioning lights.

​As you can see above, I’d made a bit of a mess of the original 50 year old under dash millboard when diagnosing the failure to light, but it was already in very poor condition so it gave me the excuse to buy the new one I’d been promising Poppy for a while. It was an absolute swine to fit and Emily learned lots and lots of new words but we got here in the end. 

​You can’t actually see it unless you are laying in the floor well, but if you do happen to find yourself laying in the floor well it now all looks rather lovely now.
 
Then I had to reassemble the radio and speaker, reconnect and refit the 12v supply/cigarette lighter and the electric washer pump switch. Along with the steering column and steering wheel. Of course, when I drove the car, the steering wheel was 90 degrees out but this was soon corrected. It is also a record for me as I removed the steering wheel twice in a week and didn’t break my nose.
 
I’m now very pleased with my interior.

​We were on a roll so I went ahead and fitted the new horn that has been in my garage for a year. The steering column on the Herald is adjustable and the last time I had it apart, I think I set it too far forward as every time I went round a corner or over a bump the horn used to sound of its own volition which led to acute embarrassment and the odd fight. It kept touching the steering wheel boss and therefore earthing the horn. This time, I made sure I set the column further back.
 
Then, with Emily’s help, I changed the old horn which had gone from sounding when it felt like it to not sounding at all. Who’d have thought, the ability to do an arabesque would come in handy when working on a classic car.

​I then gave her a quick wash to rid her of all the dust that had settled over the last week - Poppy that is, not Emily - and went for a lovely test drive on the country lanes. Poppy was running sweeter than ever and I was enjoying sounding the horn whenever I felt like it. Which was quite often. Just for giggles.

So finally, a productive day. Hopefully, I’ll have something else to write about soon but in the meantime, stay safe everyone and see you on the other side.

By Mike Peake.

Eeee, Ba gum lad wim gowyn t’ Yorkshire moors ont’ touwer!
 
Ok, I’ll stop that now. It’s starting to hurt my throat and I don’t understand what I’ve written.
 
It was time for our much-anticipated tour of the Yorkshire Moors in celebration of dedicated member Bernard Owen’s 80th birthday and we were all very excited despite severe bumbling incompetence hitting weeks before the actual tour.

When Mrs FB heard about this tour she was very keen to come as it was “not camping”. In a moment of rare clarity of thought, our glorious Fat Controller of events (Gar Cole) realised that November, in the North Yorkshire Moors is likely to be a tad chilly and damp and not very likely to be conducive for happy camping. He booked the Cross Keys Inn.
 
Now, as well as being “camping averse”, Mrs FB was also rather unwilling to be driven 300 miles in a “rattle ridden, drafty old car with a leaky roof and no heating in November”. (I know. How rude! It’s a good job Poppy didn’t hear.) Fortunately Gar Cole came to the rescue. “I’m buying a car trailer, Mike.” He said. “You can borrow it whenever you like.” Sorted, I thought. So I sent him Poppy’s dimensions just to make sure. Gar successfully sourced a trailer and I towed it home from the NEC show. We won an award at the NEC show you know.

​Anyway, the trailer was parked on my drive in the dark and I only saw it in the dark until the next weekend which was the weekend before the tour. I went up to my lock up and gave Poppy her pre-flight checks and while I was there, I happened to look at the gap between Poppy’s wheels and had an alarming thought. I measured the gap between the wheels and the track. (Distance between the outsides of the wheels). The measurements were 43” and 49”. When I got back to the trailer, I measured that gap between the insides of the tracks. It was 47”! Ooops!
 
If I was really clever in loading, I could get poppy balancing on the raised lip on the inside edge of each track with 1” of tyre to spare on each side. Needless to say, I abandoned this plan so I decided to go in the CRV and car hop when we got there. Sadly, Poppy would be left at home for yet another tour this year.
 
Friday 22nd November dawned and we set off with a very sad looking empty trailer. (We were passing right by Gar’s house on the way so it would’ve been silly not to return it to him so that he could discover that Nelson wouldn’t fit either.)

​After a brief stop at Gar’s it was on to meet some more intrepid tourists at the Donington Park Services. (Just the 3 “n’s” Lo(r)raine, is that correct?) Nick and Jo, Windy and Sarah Woodward, Bernard and Thelma Owen and new tourists Anthony and Pat Osborne. Surprisingly Phil Allin was there too but he was just skiving and joining us for a coffee. He couldn’t leave until Lucas had finished school but you could tell his feet were itching. We sent Phil back to work and set of for the M1/A1(M) car park for the final 2 hour blatt to the hotel. With two decompression stops, I should be able to continue my journey to the extreme north without getting the bends or a nosebleed.

​Arrival at the hotel was a welcome relief after a traffic jam-laden trip but at least all the classics behaved themselves and in that sense it was trouble-free. The hotel was a fantastic find by Gar. It was newly refurbished and had only reopened the previous week. You could still smell the paint and the rooms were fantastic.
 
The rest of the tourists arrived over the afternoon and Bernard’s 80th birthday celebration weekend could start properly. A lovely evening was spent in great company with good food and just a little beer. Sue Clamp’s multi-storey birthday cake caused some problems as even Tosh Brooks’ mouth wasn’t big enough to deal with the height. 

​After the events at the NEC, Phil and I had made sure we remained at opposite ends of the pub for the whole evening as he is a very bad influence on me. As a result, I woke up in the morning feeling remarkably refreshed and healthy. Indeed, actually human.
 
Phil didn’t. For some reason, a night on Yorkshire ale had sent him “native”. He spent the whole morning dressed like this and saying things like “’Eee, ‘ave Tha seen ma ferrits?”, “Eee Thas reet grand thariz” and “Eee ba gum lad”. At one stage he even exclaimed “’Ow Mootch!” We tried to flush it out of him with copious amounts of tea. However, schoolboy error, it turned out to be Yorkshire tea. Oh well, Tha lives an’ learns young’uns, tha lives an’ learns. Oh no. He’s got me at it now!

​So let me introduce the tourists. First the little surprise left for us in the car park overnight. An unidentified classic car. It turns out that Graham was fed up of his very, very late 1999 Rover 75 trying to run him over on tour and has actually gone out and bought this rather lovely Humber called Humphrey.

​Newcomers to our tours, Pat and Anthony Osborne bought this cracking looking 1980 MGB GT. I particularly liked the black paint with the rubber bumpers. Welcome to the EBMVBB1985 Care in the Community group. It was great to meet you and I hope you weren’t scared away by Windy Woodward. Every group has one though and we’re sorry about that.

​Tosh and Gus Brooks Jake and Bella in their gorgeous P6 2000. Surprisingly, this is the P6’s second tour with us as Tosh hasn’t sold it yet. Get yer finger out Tosh. We’re bored now and need you to bring something else exciting. (Not so exciting that it wants to kill us though.)

​Nick and Jo were in the glorious Jensen. Nick had fitted new twin carbs (Not himself obviously. Don’t be daft!) They only cost £20 and he was making the most of the 10% improvement in fuel efficiency that the new carbs were giving him. He said he really enjoyed that extra 250yds.

Eric Dalton was in his Rover 216 VDP. This is a local one for our resident mad Scotsman and he almost forgot to stop at the hotel as he hadn’t driven his normal 600 miles to one of our events.

​Phil, Lorrain and Lucas were in Big Rov, the stately home on wheels. Big Rov loved Yorkshire and we all love Big Rov but we could all see his embarrassment at the antics of his driver.

​Being wafted around in the luxury that is the Ford Zephyr were Ian Woodward and his long-suffering wife Sarah along with Bernard and Thelma Owens. As the all-important 80th birthday boy, Bernard exercised his right to be chauffeur-driven this weekend, leaving Webster the Maxi at home. I do love this Zephyr despite the silly gear stick but most of all, I still can’t get over how appropriate it is for Windy Woodward to have a car called a Zephyr!!

​Poor Nelson had been left on the drive yet again in favour of the flash new mistress in Gar’s  life in the shape of the much younger Mk1 Mondeo. (All fur coat and no knickers that one, so they say. The Mondeo I mean - not Gar, obviously! Eeeew!

​Richie Moore and Stan Barnes joined us on the day in the stunning blue Sierra estate and the immaculate S-Type Jaaaag.

​Adrian, Rhianna and Shannon “Slugger” Jenkins  and her friend Casey were in Shannon’s very, very late 1999 Ford fiesta. John Ticehurst, Kevin Terry, Keith and Marcus McGovern, Mrs FB and I had all forgotten to bring a classic and would spend the day car hopping.

​That just leaves my very favourite, Brian Allison and his Mk II Triumph 2000. Obviously, it’s the car that’s my favourite not Brian. I really, really love this car and spending the day being chauffeured around in the warm cosy loveliness of it just underlined my desperate need to have a big Triumph in my life. Now, Brian has very kindly agreed to leave it to me in his will. However he inconsiderately, stubbornly and surprisingly (given he is older than time) clings onto life! Oh, er yes, and er long may it continue (at least long enough to spend the TLC sorting some of Tricia’s niggles anyway.) 

​So, now that you know everyone its back to the tour. We checked our weather apps and were pleased to see that Gar “Rainman” Cole had booked our usual weather even down to the yellow warnings.

​Gar handed out the tour notes and we were ready for the off. Actually we weren’t quite. Windy’s Zephyr had run out of electrickery and needed a top up from Gar’s flashy Jezebel but was soon up and running.

​Eric wasn’t so lucky though. His Rover VDP just point blank refused to start. Even our resident car whisperer Gus “Super Enthusiast Man” Brooks couldn’t coax her into life. The diagnosis? We believe that she was feeling hard done by and unloved as she had only been driven 100 miles or so yesterday instead her usual 600. Eric elected to wait for the recovery chap who couldn’t cheer her up either and Eric and the Rover were towed home. So, bit of a busman’s holiday for ex recovery driver Eric.

​The slight delay meant that we’d all had time to meticulously study the tour notes that Gar had handed out rather than mess about in the car park taking daft photos. This meant that as Gar pulled out of the hotel in the white Jezebel, everyone was ready to ……. head off in their own completely different directions. Honestly, it was like a Red Arrows break, even down to the green coloured smoke leaking from Windy Woodwards window.

​Brian and I had an excuse. We turned around and went to make sure Eric was ok and didn’t want to jump in with us. As for the rest - who knows? Actually, Humphrey the Humber had a little hiccup and needed a short rest before bravely continuing after Super Enthusiast Man gave him a hard stare.

Once Gar was happy that he had his flock successfully corralled, we all set off again for our 1st official stop at Hutton le Hole. Well to be more specific, The chocolate factory at Hutton Le Hole. The ladies on tour had found out about this little gem and insisted that it we added it to our itinerary. To be honest, none of the men folk argued too hard as we all want our ladies to be happy. Not to mention that some of us may like chocolate too. Anyway, who wanted to go and who didn’t was all rather academic; it was shut.
 
The car park was jolly nice though and well worth the £2.50 we’d all put in the machine. Adrian also took the opportunity to replace some of the air that had fallen out of the Fiesta’s tyre. It was only flat at the bottom though, so I’m sure it will be fine.

We left Hutton Le Hole car park for a fantastic drive across the moors to Grosmont. I didn’t know 1 in 3 hills existed before this trip but Gar seemed to have found loads of them. It was brilliant! The weather was bleak and the moors were bleak and it was all rather beautiful because of it. I loved it. The hauntingly beautiful scenery necessitated several unscheduled photo opportunity stops including the ruins of iron smelting kilns high up in the middle of nowhere before the notorious 1 in 3 descent down the “Chimney Bank”.

​Grosmont is one of the stations on the wonderfully nostalgic North Yorkshire Moors Steam Railway. It was chosen as a stop because of the unspoilt Victorian station where we would be able to see steam trains roaring in and out of the station and experience all the accompanying sights, smells and sounds. It was shut.
 
We did however manage to break onto the station platform which was indeed nostalgic. Gar was telling everyone that would listen that this station “played the part of Hogsmeade station in the Harry Potter Films” before running up and down doing his beast Hagrid impression. Which, to be fair was actually quite good.

​None of us had the heart to tell him it was Goathland station further up the line that played Hogsmeade. We were all enjoying the Hagrid impressions too much. At Grosmont we also broke into the engine sheds and gaped at the huge massive engines up close before finding a proper old fashioned toy er… I mean model shop to mooch around in and gape at the tiny little engines up close.

​It was just a short trip from Grosmont to Goathland and this was the stop Mrs FB and I were looking forward to the most. Back when we were newlyweds, we were avid fans of a brand new police drama starring Nick Berry and Niamh Cusack. We were even expecting our 1st child at the same time as the main characters in the drama. Yes, Goathland was where Heartbeat was filmed. It was fantastic to drive around the village green  and see the “Aidensfield Arms” and “Scripps Funeral Parlour and garage.” Which of course we had to stop outside and take pictures.

​Whilst we were taking the famous photo outside of “Scripps” which, as you can see, was all done up just as in the programme, the owner of the gift shop done up as “Scripps” came out and rather grumpily and rudely told us to “clear off” as we were “takin’ bloomin’ liberties!” Well, he said something like that.

​He didn’t seem to understand that after taking the pictures all 28 of us would quite likely have gone in and given him money for his cheap tourist tat thus providing him with his living. Furthermore, our cars were causing quite a stir among the other tourists and parked outside his shop could have drawn in even more custom. Never mind.

​We had the last laugh anyway by driving really slowly past the premises and taking photos anyway. I left a blistering review on trip advisor too. That’ll teach him. At least, I will do, as soon as I think of something suitably witty and cutting.

​I have to say, it was a bit of a shock to come across a grumpy Yorkshire man. I mean, A grumpy Yorkshire man? Who knew? After all, we have Yorkshire men in our very own group and they’re all happy, cheerful, fluffy and lovely types who are never the slightest bit grumpy. What? What do you mean “who’s that then?” Yes, of course I mean Brian, Gus and Tosh. Why are you laughing?
 
Anyway, we all laughed off our brush with Grumpy and continued on to Goathland station. You know, the station that actually played Hogsmeade station in the Harry Potter films. There were still no steam trains as the railway was still shut for the winter and there was not even a whiff of the magical Hogwarts Express, but we had fun whilst indulging our nostalgia bones all the same.

​Now it was time for the short drive to the Cross Butts Inn in Whitby (no, I can’t imagine why it’s called that either) where we were having Bernard’s birthday dinner. We’d managed to convince Pukka Phil that the restaurant had called to say that they’d run out of pies to see if we could set off another teenage strop New Forest style. Yes I know you will deny this Pukka Phil as you pretended not to believe us, but we all saw your bottom lip trembling and don’t think we didn’t notice you stood by the door to steal the 1st portion of pie to be bought through.
 
Whilst the rest of us were waiting for our food and Pukka Phil was filling his face with pie, Windy Woodward was teaching Lucas how to make a wine glass sing. He’s a good teacher and it wasn’t long before Lucas produced a fine pure note. Windy then rolled up his sleeves, said “Hold my Beer”, wet his fingers and started to run them round the rim of the glass. We were all utterly amazed and our ghasts were flabbered when a full orchestral rendition of the Bridal March rang out across the Inn. Ian took a bow and the applause was deafening.

​Actually, there was a wedding in the function room next door but the timing couldn’t have been better if it was planned. The rest of our meals were delivered and the food was exceptionally good as was the service. Even Tosh wasn’t complaining. But now it was time for Bernard who really is a very lovely man and the Grandfather of the group. I shall now pass you over to Gar and Bernard themselves. (I mean watch the video you numpties! This is the interweb, It’s clever like that.)  

​It was all rather moving and got a bit emotional but we wiped our eyes, bashed our chests and started talking in manly voices about manly things until it was time to head off for our final destination,.
 
Whitby Abbey was our final destination before heading back to the hotel. We were all looking forward to mooching around its haunting chapel’s and vestibules looking for Count Dracula’s coffin and soaking in the spooky atmosphere. It was shut. 
 
Everyone was fussing around the car park to get the cars perfectly lined up with the floodlit Abbey making a fine backdrop and some really great photos were taken.

​Personally, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. It’s not as though they’ve even finished building it yet! I mean, I’m sure it will look lovely when it is actually fully built, but still.
 
Anyway, it rounded off a really great tour so huge thanks to Gar for all his tireless efforts in putting together a great day and it’s not even over yet.
 
We all headed back to our hotel and after a short nap as we’re all knocking on a bit now, we hit the bar for another great evening with great company. There was even a professional singer laid on for us! Well, yes. The least said about that the better. It was all we could do to stop Jo ripping his microphone away and taking over. Not that she wouldn’t have been a far superior replacement you understand. I’m sure she has the voice of an angel (What was that Nick? A Hells Angel you say? Well that is just rude Nick! I’m surprised at you.) No. we were only stopping Jo as we felt it would be rude to usurp the professional.
 
Phil and I were still making sure that we never inhabited the same end of the pub at the same time but it would appear that his claim that I was the bad influence wasn’t his only worry. He was so concerned after the effect that drinking Yorkshire Ale had had on him, that he was choosing to drink the least Yorkshire, and coincidentally least manly tipple to be had. Yes, and I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say, that I am deeply ashamed to report that he was drinking … Baileys! Not only that, but Baileys … with ice!!! I know. Oh the humiliation!
 
He wasn’t the only one. Lorraine was also drinking Baileys with Ice but as she is an actual girl, it’s not quite so shameful. Anyway, It would appear that Lorraine was only drinking Baileys in the extremely mistaken belief that it would improve her dancing.

​A really lovely evening was had by all in the best company possible. Midnight was soon upon us. The hotel staff were starting to drop subtle hints that it was time for us to retire to our rooms for the night. You know the sort of thing? Putting the chairs up on the tables and turning the lights out. Anyway most of our party took the hint and went to bed. Two of us didn’t though. Can you guess? Ha! No! it wasn’t Phil and I. We’d spent the whole weekend avoiding each other whenever alcohol was about. No. It was Mrs FB and Jo who stayed up way into the night putting the world to rights.
 
“At last!” I thought. I’d be able to administer the same levels of loving sympathy that Mrs FB gives my hangovers. Yes! Disappointingly, Mrs FB didn’t have so much as a minor head ache in the morning.
 
Now would be a good time to say a massive thanks to all those who attended. Along with the other regulars who couldn’t be here  you’ve made the social side of this group so much fun that it almost comes as a surprise that there are classic cars too.
 
So, hearty breakfasts were eaten, sad Goodbyes were said and we all headed our separate ways for trouble free trips home. All except Gar that is. The Jezebel’s gearbox let go a mile away from home. Nelson smirked, smugly.

By Mike Peake.

​Sunday seemed to dawn much, much earlier than I expected to the sound of Gus banging loudly on my door and a little man banging loudly in my head and another churning cement in my stomach. I reluctantly and manfully pulled myself out of bed but even a cold shower didn’t make me feel any more human. However, seeing Phil made me realise how bad it could have been. At least I’d managed to shut my bedroom door, undress, turn out my light and get into bed before falling unconscious last night. Phil hadn’t managed any of this and his hair in the morning was definitely reminiscent of Doc Brown in Back to the Future. As rough as Phil looked though, I didn’t feel that much better but at least it gave me a laugh. However, Gus’s lovingly prepared full English breakfast was just a step too far for me. Needless to say, Gus drove us to the NEC again. He must really love my CRV!
 
Once we were on the stand, a couple of gallons of strong coffee, some sugary cake and a look at our award winning exhibits soon had me back on my feet again. I did tell you that we won the Lancaster Insurance Sponsors Choice award at the Classic and Sports Car Awards dinner on Friday evening didn’t I? I think I must have.
 
Paul Green’s Standard Vanguard Estate was a stunner and puts a smile on everyone’s face. Paul bought this car originally as a stop gap car whilst he restored another. A friend of his had a 101 victor estate and Paul discovered that he really like classic estate cars so when this one turned up on Car and Classic, he went to Norwich with the trailer but walked away 3 times until the vendor offered it at the right price and it came home.

Paul told his mate, who restores his cars that it just needed 3 bulbs and a tune up. Two years and a lot of hard work later, it rolled out of his mate’s workshop and to its first show, which just happened to be a very cold day at a show run by our very group at the Coventry Transport Museum where it won the Member’s choice award! Apparently, he enjoyed himself so much that he wanted to be part of the Gang and we are making his dreams come true. Yes, I know. They must be some very odd dreams.

​The remaining AWARD WINNING car on our AWARD WINNING stand belongs to John and Jean Dickson and it’s a rather lovely 1961 MkII Austin A55 Cambridge. Before it came into John’s ownership, the car’s history showed an awful lot of owners, most of them in recent times and apparently all part of the Banger Racing community. Luckily, they all decided that it was too good to race and “Lucky” found her way eventually to John and Jean.
 
I first saw this car when John joined us on our Dark Peak tour and have to admit, I was smitten and very pleased when it was chosen to join us on our stand.

​I have to say that the Lancaster Insurance NEC Classic Car show really outdid itself this year and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Not just because we won an award, (WE WON AN AWARD!!!) and not just because it seemed much friendlier this year and the rivet counters had seemed to stay away but because of the outstanding quality of all the displays. There really was some strong competition for us. (But we beat them ALL and WON THE AWARD! Naa Naa Nana Naaaa!)
 
Here is a gallery of some of my favourites.

​After winning the Pride of Ownership at the 2018 NEC Classic Motor Show, Shiny Paul Shiny (Clappison) was invited to enter his very shiny MGB GT onto the Meguiar’s  “who’s got the shiniest shiny car” stand. He was really mixing it up with the big boys of shiny. So, after donning my welders goggles to protect me from the glare of this shiny stand, I headed over to Hall 1 to see how Shiny Paul was doing.

​When I got there the glare was so strong that I slathered on some factor 50 just to be safe. I have to say that Shiny Paul’s shiny MGB GT definitely deserved to be there and to my untutored eye looked every bit as shiny as the rest. On learning that shiny Paul is solely responsible for the current world wide cotton bud shortage, I appreciated the amount of work that goes into shiny. 

The judges' white gloves were still white after their very, very thorough inspection of Shiny Paul’s work of art proving he still has Shiny sorted.

​The other car on the Meguiar’s  “who’s got the shiniest shiny car” stand, that really caught my attention, was this humble Metro. The young lad had bought it for £500 and used it as his daily runner before his passion for “tidying it up” became a bit of a fetish and he achieved this. A real credit to the chap.

​Unfortunately, neither the shiny MGB GT or the shiny Metro, nor any of the multi million pound temples of shiny gracing Meguiar’s  “who’s got the shiniest shiny car” stand, were deemed by the judges to be quite as shiny as this stunning Mini and all I can say is WOW!

​The rest of the show was spent like most of the shows in eating cake and chatting to all our members that made the effort to visit us on the stand and say hello. It was really great to see you all Thank you. Sadly though, the show came to an end in the traditional blaring of horns and it was time to pack up and say cheerio.

Video needs sound.

​So, a massive thank you to Nick Arthur for the beer barrel, Paul Green for the Standard Vanguard, Mick and Gill Taylor for the Vauxhall VX 4/90, John and Jean Dickson for the Austin A55 and Gus and Tosh Brooks for Apollo the P5B camper. You WON AN AWARD CHAPS! Thank you. Special thanks to Lexy too for fulfilling her guard dog duties so well.
 
HUGE thanks to Dave Youngs and Lancaster Insurance for their continued support and choosing us for the Sponsors Choice AWARD THAT WE WON!
 
Thanks are also due to Phil Allin of Alvaston Press who regularly supports us with the fantastic banners and flags and tour plaques and to our other sponsor, Richard Edmonds Auctions. We couldn’t put on these events without these guys' continued support so thanks again.
 
Finally, hugest thanks of all to Gar Cole for his passion, drive and energy and to Captain Paul Sweeney for his continuous behind the scenes beavering away all the way from New Zealand. We hope that one day that he can join us to see the fruits of his labours in the flesh. Nothing would happen in this group without these two top chaps.
 
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed my report and that I managed to convey how much fun we had and that we WON AN AWARD!
 
Of course, I have to finish with a picture of our glorious Fat Controller of events, eating at an event as well as some other members who couldn’t quite handle all the excitement. Its traditional you see.

​See you soon.
 
Fatbloke.